


wait for a warmer season

by brinnanza



Series: The More the Merrier [3]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s04e19 Some 38th Parallels, M/M, Missing Scene, Multi, The B Stands for Bisexual: The BJ Hunnicutt Story, fantasy threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnanza/pseuds/brinnanza
Summary: Because he’s not blind -- he knows Hawkeye isn’t nearly as straight-laced (in either sense) as the army would like, but the memory of Hawkeye’s former bunkmate (and whatever else he’d been) lingers in the space between them.





	wait for a warmer season

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139477) by [brinnanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnanza/pseuds/brinnanza). 



> A follow up coda for Some 38th Parallels, from BJ's POV this time. You'll probably want to read [Fine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139477) first or you might be confused.
> 
> More the Merrier-compliant, title comes from Deb Talan's Forgiven, and thanks ever so much to Floot for beta reading and sneaking the idea of this fic right out of my brain to suggest it to me.

Of all the letters BJ has received from Peg so far -- and it is a fairly tall stack for the relatively short time he’s been in Korea, even if every day feels approximately ten years long -- this one shows the most wear, already practically falling apart at the fold lines from how often BJ has read it. It’s short, two lines and a signature, sent between pages-long missives declaring Peg’s love and catching him up on local gossip and baby milestones.

_BJ,_

_Your heart is big enough for all of us, darling. Just come home to me._

_All my love,_

_Peg_

He’d started so many letters in reply, all variations on “It’s not like that, Peggy,” and they’d all ended up in the furnace. Because it _is_ like that. Something in Hawkeye had resonated in BJ right from the beginning, new and terrifying and wonderful and _familiar_. And it should terrify him, that he feels this… this _tug_ from someone who isn’t Peggy, but mostly he thinks he’s just grateful. He’s not sure he would have made it through that first terrible day, or the next one, or the next without Hawkeye.

Of course, Hawkeye’s sense of humor (which nearly rivals Peg’s for being well-matched) and his rakish good looks don’t hurt.

Peg’s blessing doesn’t erase the nights BJ lays awake, drowning in guilt that he should feel so much for someone new, but it does make them easier to bear. He’ll take whatever Hawkeye will give him, even if it’s not exactly what he wants, but he won’t push, not when there’s a chance this thing blossoming between them will shatter under the weight of too much too soon.

He will, however, drop hints. A lot of hints. Because he’s not blind -- he knows Hawkeye isn’t nearly as straight-laced (in either sense) as the army would like, but the memory of Hawkeye’s former bunkmate (and whatever else he’d been) lingers in the space between them. So even though BJ wants Hawkeye with a breathless intensity that keeps him up at night (in several senses), he has not, thus far, given in to the temptation to push Hawkeye up against the nearest solid surface and kiss him senseless.

He’s a gentleman after all.

\--

It’s some combination of Hawkeye’s frustratingly platonic touch and Peg’s frustratingly absent touch that has BJ pausing mid-letter to ask his bunkmate overfamiliar questions like “how’s your sex life?” and “rubbed one out lately?” He’d like to blame it on alcohol, but aside from a single beer a while ago, he hasn’t actually had any.

Anyway, it’s a purely medical interest. (It isn’t.) He only wants to make sure Hawkeye doesn’t have any potentially serious blood flow issues. (He doesn’t.) He just wants to help out a friend. (He’d prefer a much more hands-on approach.)

“If you weren’t so heavy a sleeper, you might already know,” Hawkeye says. As if he’s at all capable of stifling the little gasps and moans that occasionally wake BJ in the middle of the night. Part of sharing a tent with someone is pretending you’re still asleep when their breathing gets a little too heavy, and BJ has always been something of a light sleeper. “Although discretion _is_ the better part of valor in such close quarters.”

Discretion.

Right.

“I can clear out for a little while if you want?” BJ says, just a little too quickly. “It’s no Nurse Able, but it might take some of the pressure off.” The suggestion is as much for his own benefit as it is for Hawkeye’s -- of the things BJ would like to take off right at this moment, “the pressure” is awfully far down the list. Now that he’s thinking about it, he won’t be able to _stop_ thinking about it, not while Hawkeye is just on the other side of the tent, all wound up and frustrated and --

It’s a shame they still have hot water left, because BJ really needs a cold shower. A very cold shower. Glacier cold. Liquid nitrogen cold.

“You don’t want to stay for the floor show?” Hawkeye says, and who needs snipers because BJ’s pretty sure _Hawkeye_ is going to be the death of him. It’s that cheeky grin, like this is just another outrageous joke courtesy of the camp clown and not an electrical shock direct to BJ’s heart (among other places).

Discretion is _definitely_ the better part of valor.

BJ attempts to arrange his face into an answering grin, but there’s a little too much heat in it still. He swings his legs off of the cot and shoves his feet into boots without bothering to tie them. Falling face-first into the mud outside of the tent will cool down his suddenly overheated skin, and anyway it would serve him right. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, gathering up his things so he can make his way to the door.

This has the unfortunate (Fortunate.) (Unfortunate.) side effect of bringing him much closer to where Hawkeye is sprawled out on his cot. BJ drags his eyes up to Hawkeye’s face, but they take the scenic route up his body, pausing for a heartbeat to note the sliver of skin where his shirt has ridden up. Hawkeye is staring at him, something inscrutable on his face, and BJ can’t help winking at him on his way out the door.

It’s late enough that the mess tent is empty when he ducks inside, and BJ makes a beeline for the coffee urn. If he’s lucky (and who is in Korea?), the kitchen will have added extra saltpeter to this batch. He takes his cup back to a table and sets his half-finished letter in front of him. He’ll give Hawkeye half an hour or so, write a letter to the amazing, fantastic woman he still can’t believe agreed to marry him, and then duck into the Swamp long enough to grab his bathrobe and a towel so he can spend a few minutes in the shower unwinding (one way or another).

In the meantime, though, he’s not going to think about it. He’s not going to think about Hawkeye palming himself before slipping a hand under the waistband of his trousers. He’s not going to think about Hawkeye planting his feet on the cot, thrusting up into his hand with his head thrown back, mouth slack with pleasure. And he’s _definitely_ not going to think about the noises he is absolutely too far away to hear, little whines and gasps and pleading half sentences that crescendo into a long cry as Hawkeye comes.

BJ shifts a little on the bench and takes a long drag of coffee.

Right. He’s going to finish this letter, and then, depending on how long it takes, maybe he’ll start another. He scans through what he’s written so far, tapping his pencil against his chin.

_...still a kid. He shouldn’t have to grow the same thick skin as we do…._

It’s possible BJ’s heart (among other things) is not exactly in the right place for that particular letter. He flips to a new page.

_Dear Peg,_

_I’d never be so cruel as to wish you were here, but I would give anything to be with you now. I miss you so much, darling. I miss your smile. I miss the way your laugh tastes when I kiss you. I miss your breath against my ear, whispering in the dark so we don’t wake Erin…_

\--

BJ makes plenty of noise on his way back to the Swamp, just in case, but when he opens the door, the lights are out and Hawkeye is already asleep. Or, pretending to be asleep anyway. BJ has slept beside a partner long enough to know the difference between waking breaths and sleeping ones. He lets Hawkeye have the fiction and gathers his shower supplies as quietly as possible, though it’s possible Hawkeye knows exactly what he’s doing -- and why, even. The idea chases a little frisson of electricity down BJ’s spine.

The hot water feels good on BJ’s skin, but not nearly as good as the hand he wraps around his cock the moment he’s sure he’s alone in the shower tent. He gives himself a couple of slow strokes, leaning against the back of the stall, and closes his eyes. He keeps a vague ear on the door for anyone who might interrupt, and then he lets his mind drift back to all the delicious possibilities he’d tried so hard not to think about earlier: Hawkeye with his chest flushed and heaving as he moans…. Not on an army cot in a tent in Korea, but on a proper bed, soft and plush and big enough for both of them. BJ would kiss his way down Hawkeye’s body, leaving teasing little nips as he goes.

BJ bites back a groan and speeds up his strokes, twisting his fist at the top of his cock. Hawkeye would be begging for him, loud and needy, and BJ would wait until he couldn’t take it anymore, until he’s tugging at BJ’s hair and desperate --

Or maybe he’d be tied up, hands up against the headboard and totally at BJ’s mercy as BJ sucks him off. And Peg would be pressed against BJ’s back, dropping soft, open-mouthed kisses on his shoulder, over his pulse, while she whispers filthy encouragements in his ear, her clever hands on his cock.

Or better still, Peg’s mouth on his cock while Hawkeye fucks him. He’d be pinned between them, one hand in Peg’s golden curls and the other reaching back to grasp Hawkeye’s hip. They’d set the perfect rhythm, slow enough to last but not to tease. And then once he and Hawkeye came, they could lay Peg out on the bed, take turns driving her mad while the other swallowed down her screams -- 

The tidal wave finally crashes onto the shore, and BJ comes with a stifled cry, bracing himself against the side of the shower stall. He stands under the hot spray for a long moment, loose-limbed and boneless in the wake of his release. 

Back in the Swamp, Hawkeye is asleep (for real this time). BJ spares him a lingering glance and then crawls into his own cot, aching for the warmth of skin against his -- Peg tucked against his chest, his arm around her waist, and Hawkeye behind him, nosing into the hair at the base of BJ’s neck, hand splayed on BJ’s hip.

Korea is cold at night, BJ has learned. It would be so much more bearable with company.


End file.
